by Shana Galen
Brook raised his brows at the girl. “Is that Nanny?”
“That’s Mama. I’d better go.”
“Good-bye then.”
She didn’t take the time to say good-bye, just yanked open the door and dashed away, her shoes clicking on the wooden floors.
Brook shook his head and shoved his hands into his pockets. Lila certainly had competition in that little one. She wasn’t the only princess in the house any longer.
A moment later, the door opened and the Earl of Granbury entered. Brook hadn’t known the duke’s son and heir was home, but he supposed the duke had sent for his son when Lila had gone missing.
“Sir Brook,” Granbury said, coming forward and bowing. “How can we thank you?”
Brook bowed in return. Granbury was younger than Lila and had the look of sincerity. His brown eyes, shaped like Lila’s but a darker color, were almost too big for his youthful face.
“I don’t need thanks, your lordship. I wanted only to speak with your father.”
“He is on his way.” Granbury poured a measure of brandy, handed it to Brook, and then poured one for himself. Though Brook had been determined not to take anything from Lennox, he didn’t feel the same compunction with Granbury. He sipped and wondered if the earl knew anything of his history with Lila.
“I only saw her for a moment,” Granbury said, “but she seemed fine. How did you find her?”
“Luck,” Brook said, not wishing to bring Dorrington into the conversation. It was better if no one asked too many questions about his associate.
“Remind me never to gamble with you,” Danbury said.
The two sipped their brandy in silence for a few moments, in which Brook fervently wished the duke would make his appearance. What did one say to a brother after having rescued his sister from Seven Dials?
Finally, Danbury cleared his throat. “Hell of a thing about the MP from Lincolnshire.”
Brook didn’t follow politics. That was his brother’s domain. But he liked to think he kept abreast of Parliament’s activities when they were in session. He’d even been called to address Parliament a time or two on the question of crime in the city.
At present, Parliament was not in session. Most of the members were at their country estates or in their home counties.
“What happened?” Brook asked, glancing toward the bracket clock on a table. How much longer would the duke make him wait? He wanted a hot bath, a hot meal, and his bed. In that order.
“The man was found dead this morning near the Covent Garden Theater.”
Brook set down his glass. He’d been near Covent Garden himself that morning, investigating Lila’s disappearance. “Natural causes?” he asked.
“Murder. His throat was cut from one end to the other.”
Brook’s entire body went cold, and his focus sharpened like a knife.
“Do they have the assassin?”
Danbury settled himself in a large armchair. “No. Right now the Bow Street Runners are asking for witnesses.”
Oh, he had a witness, but he wasn’t trusting her to the Runners. Most of them were good men, but there were a few who would sell their souls for a few extra coins.
“Have to ask yourself what kind of world we live in when our own government officials are murdered on the street.”
“Yes.”
Brook knew exactly the kind of world they lived in, probably better than the earl would ever know. His question was what sort of relationship the dead MP had with Beezle—if that was who’d taken Lila and who she’d seen murder the member from Lincolnshire.
His next question was how to protect Lila. If she’d seen Beezle murder an MP, she wasn’t safe. Kidnapping was one thing, murder quite another. She was a target now, and she had to be protected.
The door opened, and Granbury stood as his father entered. Lennox waved his son back down and crossed directly to the ormolu table holding the brandy, sherry, and port decanters. He poured himself a measure of sherry, downed it, then poured another. Crystal-cut glass in hand, he turned to face Brook.
“Well, you’ve done it again. My daughter is home, safe and sound.”
“She is home,” Brook acknowledged.
“She seems none the worse for her ordeal, a little tired and hungry, but that can be remedied. It’s her reputation that concerns me now.”
Of course that’s what mattered to the duke. Lila had to make a good match. That, after all, was the purpose of a duke’s daughter. How Lennox must have chafed at his wife’s illness and death. The period of mourning only prolonged Lila’s maidenhood.
The duke himself, however, had certainly not waited to marry again.
“Did Lady Lillian-Anne tell you all that happened to her?” Brook asked.
The duke waved a hand. “She told me enough.” He gestured to his son to rise from the chair Granbury occupied and then took it himself. Granbury retreated to the window, seeming content to stay in his father’s shadow.
“She is still intact, still able to marry. That is, if you agree,” the duke said.
“If I agree?” Brook had been standing still, but he went stiller yet.
“To keep this little incident to yourself. I’ll pay you to keep silent, of course.”
Brook raised a hand. “As I’ve said before, I don’t want your money, and you insult me by supposing I would ever tarnish a lady’s reputation. If the abduction is discovered, the news of it won’t have come from me.”
“I have your word on that?” the duke asked.
As far as Brook was concerned, he’d already given his word. “I believe we have a more pressing concern than your daughter’s reputation. She witnessed a murder last night, and based on the information Granbury just gave me, I believe the man murdered was the MP from Lincolnshire.”
“What?” Granbury pushed away from the window. “I never said anything about Lila and the MP.”
“No, but I put the facts together and made a deduction.”
“I don’t follow,” the duke said. “What is this about Lila and a murder?”
“Did she tell you she saw her captor slit a man’s throat last night in Seven Dials?”
“No.”
“She doesn’t want to think about it,” Brook said. “I had to pry the information from her.”
“If she doesn’t want to think about it, why not let it lie?” Granbury asked.
“Because if it’s the MP she saw murdered, she’s a target. Bee—the men who took her won’t want witnesses. They know who she is, where she lives. They’ll come for her and kill her.”
“This is preposterous!” The duke rose. He was not a tall man, but he had broad shoulders and the face of a Roman general—tall forehead, aquiline nose, sharp blue eyes. “How can you be certain the man she saw murdered was the MP—what’s his name?”
“Fitzsimmons,” Granbury supplied.
“How can you know it was the same man? Surely a handful of men are murdered every night in Seven Dials. And Fitzsimmons was found near the theater.”
“Which is on the outskirts of Seven Dials,” Brook added. Though the rookeries bordered the respectable neighborhoods throughout the city, he found that the gentry liked to believe they were far, far away from the rabble in their own homes and favorite shops or clubs.
“It would be a relatively simple matter to dump the body there.”
“Relatively simple?” the duke sputtered. “And you know this from experience?”
Brook let the snub slide. “I will check with my contacts at Bow Street and inquire as to the possibility of there being another corpse killed by the severing of the jugular. Until I return, I still think it prudent to take additional security measures. I don’t know who took Lady Lillian-Anne—”
“Some investigator,” the duke snorted.
“—but I will find out. If it’s the man I think, your daughter, your whole family, is in danger.”
“We will take precautious,” Granbury said. “In fact, it might be a wise idea to remove to t
he country.”
“And how do we explain our absence at my niece’s wedding then?” the duke asked.
“Rose will understand that this is an emergency,” Granbury said.
“How?” the duke demanded. “We will have to tell her that Lila was taken, and though I love the girl, her mouth runs more than my prize thoroughbred.”
“I understand your dilemma,” Brook said, “but surely your family’s safety trumps etiquette.”
The look the duke gave him reminded him of one his mother often bestowed when he gave her similar advice. To men like the duke and women like the dowager countess, nothing trumped proper etiquette.
“I’ll go to Bow Street and return with more information,” Brook said. “In the meantime, Lady Lillian-Anne needs rest. There’s time yet to discuss removing to the country.”
“If you think that’s even a consideration, you don’t know the duchess,” the duke said with a wry smile.
He didn’t know the Duchess of Lennox, Brook thought as he followed the butler to the front door. But he had met her young daughter. The girl had obviously been petted and spoiled. One word to the duchess that her daughter might be in jeopardy, and she would leave soon enough.
But would that be enough to save Lila?
* * *
Lila woke in the middle of the night. She’d been dreaming of the cellar, of fighting and clawing her way out, of the darkness closing in and burying her underneath it. And then the dirt had turned to blood. Blood gushed over her like it had from the gentleman’s throat.
She sat with a quick intake of breath and put a hand over her pounding heart.
In the seat beside the bed, her lady’s maid, Lizzy, snored quietly. She was probably supposed to be keeping vigil, but Lila was glad she slept. She did not want reports of nightmares reaching her father. He frowned upon any sign of weakness, any sign of imperfection. Already she was such a disappointment to him. At five and twenty, she should have been married and a mother. Yet, here she was, still unclaimed.
She was a duke’s daughter and therefore not subject to the same rules as other women. But even a duke’s daughter received raised eyebrows when she was unmarried past five and twenty. Her father had made it clear the upcoming Season was the one. She must marry and marry well.
Prospective grooms—most of them old and titled—had been listed, plans made, new gowns for every occasion ordered. Only the most fashionable and most expensive fabrics for the eldest daughter of the Duke of Lennox. Thousands of pounds had been spent and thousands more would be spent still.
She could not let her family down.
The abduction had put a wrinkle in the plans. People had seen her where she oughtn’t have been, unchaperoned, and with a man who was not her blood relative. Lila did not worry that Brook might wag his tongue. If nothing else, Brook was a gentleman. He’d proved that years ago when he’d stayed silent, despite her abominable behavior toward him.
But what about the man who’d taken her out of the cellar? What about the jarvey? Those prostitutes? Did they know who she was? Would they sell their stories to the press?
Oh, wouldn’t the ton love a bit of malicious gossip about Lady Lila? She’d made her enemies among the upper ten thousand, right from her come out. She’d angered the women by stealing their beaux and demanding fealty from those gentlemen who courted her. They were to dance with no one else, call on no other young lady. Some of the older gentlemen scoffed at her little games, but she publicly snubbed them when they came to call. When she could stir up rumors, she always did, relishing in the power to damage a reputation with a mere hint of scandal. She had not been loved, but she’d been universally feared.
Now she was the one who feared scandal.
Lila took a deep breath and rose from her warm bed. The clock on the mantel told her it was still before midnight. She felt as though she’d slept a day and a night. Her body ached with weariness. She should have slept more, but she did not want the nightmare returning.
Perhaps a quick walk to the kitchens for a cake or a piece of toast and tea might clear her head. She’d eaten soup and bread for dinner, but she was hungry again.
Lila donned her wrap and pushed her feet into slippers, then, taking a candle and its holder, quietly opened her door. Lizzy didn’t wake, and Lila padded along the carpeted hallway until she reached the stairs. The house was quiet. Her father and mother had not gone out. They’d probably retired early, which meant the servants could do so as well.
Colin might have gone to his club, and his valet would have no reason to expect him for several more hours.
Lila lit the candle from a wall sconce and started down the stairs, holding her candle high and lifting the hem of her nightgown so she did not trip. It was not until she’d reached the last few steps that she felt the eyes on her.
She looked up and almost stumbled.
Brook Derring stood in the vestibule, watching her.
At first, she could only blink at him and wonder if she was not dreaming or merely imagining him. Seeing him again this afternoon, even under the circumstances, had made her desire to see him again. He was all the things she shouldn’t like in a man—young, virile, dangerous.
He had neither extraordinary wealth nor title. He was the son of an earl, but he was the second son. Added to that unfortunate fact, he worked as an inspector. He hadn’t even done the respectable thing and become a vicar or taken a commission in the navy.
And yet for all that, she couldn’t take her eyes off him.
His gaze never left her, and almost immediately, she realized she was not dressed. She was covered, of course, but her hair hung loose and tangled and she wore no gloves or other adornments.
Finally, Brook bowed. “Lady Lila.”
“What are you doing here?”
It wasn’t what she’d wanted to say. Indeed, she did not know what she wanted to say. Not that. It sounded so insolent when she owed everything to this man. But she’d been so desperate to hide how much she did want him to be there that she’d overcompensated.
“How good to know your warm welcome has not changed.”
Lila descended the last two steps. “I only meant I was surprised to see you.”
“As I am you.” His gaze swept over her, causing heat to rise to her cheeks. It wasn’t a lascivious gaze, but she felt a tingle on her skin nonetheless. She wished he would look at her again, even if it were only to scoff at her unkempt appearance.
“I have business with your father.”
“But I thought—” She did not know how to finish. She wasn’t so vulgar as to speak of money and payment, but he had said he wanted no part of her father’s money. Had he changed his mind?
And, if so, why should that disappoint her? It wasn’t as though he had come for her because he cared about her.
“You might as well know,” he said. “This concerns you.”
“Did you catch the man who took me?”
“No. But I discovered something that distresses me.”
She waited, wanting to know and fearing what he would say next.
“The man you saw murdered last night was almost certainly a member of Parliament.”
She took a step back, the implications of the statement like a load of bricks falling on top of her. “No.”
“It’s true. I—”
“What is this?” the butler said, returning. “My lady, surely you should return to bed.”
“Thank you, Franklin, but I would speak with my father and Sir Brook.”
“Your father has not asked for you, my lady.”
Lila notched her chin up. “Will you show me to him, or must I find my own way?”
The furrowed lines on Franklin’s face deepened yet further. “He is in the library. Follow me.”
Lila did so, with only a quick glance at Sir Brook, whose legs were longer and brought him effortlessly to her side. “And don’t you tell me to go to bed.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. As I said, this concerns you.”
She nodded, dread pooling in her stomach like too much sherry.
“But, Lady Lila,” Brook added, “I don’t think you’ll like what you are about to hear.”
Four
She looked pale, tired, and impossibly lovely. Something about her hair falling down around her shoulders in an ebony cascade made her appear more vulnerable than the stiff-necked, perfectly coiffed chit he was used to seeing. Make no mistake, she still had the stiff neck and the rigid spine, but her loose hair softened the stick-up-her-arse look about her considerably.
Franklin, who had looked as though he had two sticks up his arse, led them to the duke’s library. Brook knew it was the library without having to be told. He’d been here once before. He preferred not to think back to that humiliating day, the worst of his life until then. He wasn’t there to ask for Lila’s hand in marriage tonight.
The duke rose when Franklin announced Lila, his mouth turning down into a frown. “Go back to bed, Lillian-Anne. I’ll discuss what Sir Brook and I decide in the morning.”
From behind her, Brook saw her shoulders straighten and square. She didn’t like that suggestion in the least. Brook could hardly blame her. He wouldn’t like having his future decided for him either.
“If it’s all the same, Father, I’d like to stay and listen.” She held up a hand to forestall her father’s argument. “I can’t sleep anyway, and Sir Brook has informed me this matter concerns me.”
The duke’s eyes cut to Brook, and Brook read disapproval before Lennox looked back at his daughter. “Lila—”
She took the chair closest to the fire and settled herself, seeming to dare her father, or anyone else, to try and ban her.
Brook knew Lila rarely, if ever, defied her father. He knew this from experience. The duke’s bewildered expression seemed to prove that he was as surprised at her stubbornness as anyone.
“Very well, then.” The duke nodded to the butler. “That will be all for now, Franklin. Sir Brook.” He gestured to the chair in front of his antique maple desk.
Brook took the chair, angling his body so he could see Lila. She sat with her hands in her lap, her slippered feet primly on the floor, the fire crackling behind her and lending a soft, burnished color to her hair and skin.
